


it's 5 am, i miss you, and i ran out of my meds

by Taeters



Series: Stan Marsh SUFFERS [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Be careful everybody!!!, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Kinda, Kyle looks bad in this but it's not meant to be that way, M/M, NO FLUFFY STYLES HERE, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, at least not super bad, but still definitely there, everyone else is just mentioned, only stan is present, stan's suicidal thoughts are quick and fleeting, this is a sad one boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 11:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taeters/pseuds/Taeters
Summary: Stan's out of his medications at 5 A.M. and he just misses his best friend.





	it's 5 am, i miss you, and i ran out of my meds

**Author's Note:**

> beta read like, once, and really rushed cuz we DIE LIKE MEN

As I unceremoniously stared up at the ceiling, my eyes widened ever so slightly to take in the harsh light of my phone screen. 5:23 A.M. School started in less than three hours, and the most I’ve done is drift into quick intervals of unconsciousness, the rest of the night alone with only my thoughts and the depressing spotify playlist playing through the speaker of my phone.

I groaned, resting my head in the crook of my elbow. This same routine has played out almost the exact same way over the past three nights, which, really, I only have myself to blame. I ran out of my meds- citalopram for my depression and trazodone to help me sleep -a few days ago and I’ve honestly just been too goddamn lazy and forgetful to get them refilled.

Truth be told, though, I kind of like the withdrawals I have from my meds. Yeah, it gets me feeling some time of way, but it feels natural. I hate the fact that I have to pop a couple pills every night just to function like a normal human being, so it’s almost nice when I run out of meds. It makes me feel less robotic, suffering from withdrawals as I shake through the day, my stomach feeling as though it’s about to spill its contents at any given moment, my eyes seeing sounds and hearing colors- because if this is what I’m supposed to be feeling, then dammit, who am I to play God and stop that? Even if the overwhelming fatigue, depression, and anxiety makes me want to jump off the roof the moment I walk into school, it’s better than being numb to my true emotions, right?

However, at the end of the day, I  _ long _ for that sense of normalcy, God be damned how I’m supposed to be feeling because, surprisingly, not being able to sleep at night can get pretty tiring; even if it does makes me feel like an immortal God.

Glancing at my phone again, I know- 5:29 A.M. -that I’ll likely call in my scripts before the end of the day, or else I know the depression will then  _ really  _ start to catch up after lost time.

I ran a tongue over my teeth, cringing at the fuzz. I can’t remember the last time that I brushed my teeth. Or took a shower, for that matter, and I  _ know  _ my room smelled funky, as the unfamiliar, usually not-present scent attacked my nose after I had been absent for a period of time. My nose had become blind to the smell as I spent my days trapped in the room, but I always caught it’s true smell after I had been gone at school or somewhere else for long and entered my room once again for the first time in a couple hours. It smelled like rotting food, and I always wondered what it was coming from. I was always cautious to not leave dirty plates in my room or to even  _ eat  _ in my room, otherwise my mom would flip out, and she noticed that type of shit even when she didn’t visit me in my room very often. I guess, though, that the heaps of dirty laundry on the floor and the discarded pop cans on my desk didn’t much help the aroma. Maybe I should open the window…

...but that would require getting up, and even though I could see into the fucking 6th dimension from my utter inability to sleep, I still didn’t feel like putting effort into a single little thing before I absolutely  _ had _ to.

I wish I could talk to Kyle, but not only was he probably still asleep, but he’s been acting fucking weird lately. He’s been drifting off from our friend group lately, and he’s unexpectedly become the biggest social butterfly out of us all. Somehow, it seems that he has more friends by the  _ day _ , paying less and less attention to the three of us, and we’re wordlessly missing him. Cartman shows his grief by talking shit, Kenny by making jokes, and me by, well… spiraling.

I miss Kyle. I miss his jokes and his sweet laughter, his gentle touch in his hugs and those rare moments he would grab my hand in those moments he felt like being especially affectionate. It’s not that we never talked or we didn’t like each other, but we were drifting painfully far apart. And the lowest blow of it all was that Kyle acted completely normal, like nothing was happening at all.

Recently, Kyle and Heidi broke up after a nearly three year long relationship. Heidi had been a close friend of the four of us boys during that period of time, but once Kyle told me the devastating story of how Heidi had utterly wrecked his heart, I immediately took the side of my best friend. How couldn’t I? Between him being my best friend in the whole world and him being my first and possibly only love, it was relatively easy to shoot Heidi a quick ‘ _ fuck you _ ’ in a text and cut her off almost completely, my heart full of hope that maybe,  _ maybe, _ Kyle will realize he’s in love with me. However, the decision weighs more and more on my conscious as I realize I’m putting about 110% more effort into Kyle than he’s putting into me, even if he did just get dumped.

Still, though, I’m a slut for Kyle’s attention. Any passing glance or smile in my direction has me melting, my heart singing ‘ _ he loves you! He loves you! _ ’ right until he turns around to say hi to Criag and smiles down at Bebe, and my heart shatters into a million pieces which seems to now be a common occurrence around Kyle. During the rare times that we’re both not working and he decides he wants to actually hang out with me instead of his twenty other friends, he’s the most gentle, sweet, kind person and I’m reminded again of why I’m so in love with him. But the rest of the time I want to kill him for not caring about me as much as I care for him, and then myself for thinking that someone like Kyle could even like someone like me.

I usually didn’t care if Kyle hung out with other people. Really, truly, I didn’t, but I’m supposed to be his  _ best friend _ , and the fact that he just treats me as some sort of security blanket to fall back on whenever he has a hard time really irks me and has me wondering why I still even bother.

I wish I could pretend I had friends outside of Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny, but I didn’t. Kyle had grown to naturally learn to get along with everybody, somehow having everybody at his heels, praising him and loving his attention. Which, I guess  _ I  _ could personally understand, but it’s boggling how Kyle went from the smartass but kind kid that not many liked to the popular but troubled teen he is today. 

Cartman, then, had joined band in middle school. I never saw that coming from him, but apparently he had some sort of unspoken love and talent for the french horn. Anyways, band kids have always been weirdly close-knit, and it’s become more and more common for Cartman to talk about crazy shit someone in his section did the other day, and the only time I’d ever seen him talk with such a fire in his eyes was when he argued with Kyle: something that didn’t happen much more these days.

And Kenny… well, he was Kenny. Biggest slut in the class. Love or hate him, everybody knew him and wanted to talk, whether it was to provoke him or fawn over him.

However, at the end of the day, Kenny and Cartman were always loyal to me, which I was immensely thankful for; otherwise I knew I’d most definitely have no friends.

My mind went blank, listening to the music enveloping the room. My brain caught the line ‘ _ I need a pick me up _ ,’ and I nodded solemnly.  _ Me fuckin’ too, Jesse. _

I shifted on my bed, closing my eyes, and nearly  _ immediately  _ a fuzzy dizziness filled my brain to the brim.  _ Fuck. _ I really needed those meds.

I briefly wondered how good it would feel to stuff handfuls of those pills down my throat once I got my hands on them, before my blaring alarm interrupted me from my thoughts. I aggressively squinted at my phone, startled, before realizing it was 7 A.M. Fuck, how did that happen? I must’ve floated in and out of consciousness throughout my train of thought.

Nevertheless, I tried my best to rub the insomnia from my eyes, rising from my bed in short, nearly pained movements. I realized one thing very fast: hot. Hot, too hot. I pulled my hoodie up and over my head as fast as I could manage, and an immediate relief washed over my skin as cool air hit my body.

I was decidedly way too fuckin lazy to change out of my sweats, simply throwing on a Spider-Man t-shirt, deciding that was a good enough outfit as would ever be. I ran some fingers through my hair, again, way too fuckin lazy to actually brush it, but I didn’t want to look like a  _ total  _ greasemonkey. I wanted to at least make it look like I’m not spiraling, like, yesterday, so I also tossed a few puffs of baby powder in my hair, a tip I learned from my mom to help make your hair look less greasy.

I drenched myself in deodorant and cologne, trying again to not smell like I just stepped fresh out of a meat locker. And when I couldn’t open the mints I had on my bedside table, I instead chugged some water, downed a sip of the scotch hidden under my bed, and washed it down with some more water, hoping that’ll somewhat mask my I-haven’t-brushed-my-teeth-in-a-week morning breath.

And with that, I was ready to go, lazily slinging my bag over my shoulders and leaving my house, but only after I grabbed my Hydro Flask full of vodka which was sneakily hidden in the back of the freezer- my special drink that I sometimes never even drank from, only sneaking sips at moments when the monotony of life got so dull that I was on the verge of jumping out the window right then and there.

And, with a sigh, already wanting to crawl back into my bed to try (to no avail) to sleep, I was “ready” to start my day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you, uh.. enjoyed? Sorry y'all this was just veryyy self-indulgent and venty. Stay safe, I hope you're all doing okay, and I love you! <3


End file.
